


a supply closet, a closet of supplies, and whatnot

by Voidromeda



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidromeda/pseuds/Voidromeda
Summary: Through extremely unfortunate and obtuse, overtly complicated means, Ethos manages to trap himself and Phobos in a closet. Of supplies. For cleanliness.Phobos is less than happy about it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	a supply closet, a closet of supplies, and whatnot

**Author's Note:**

> Aggressively plays evil xylophones

“Ethos,” Phobos says rather gravely, all things considering – his voice matching the utter drabness and blankness of his face, making him look as deadly as he is mistakenly beautiful, “do you realise what you’ve done.” he continues saying when Ethos decides to stay very pointedly silent, for a good reason, and he shifts a little awkwardly in his spot. Well, the very little spot he has – there isn’t a lot of space in this closet, given that it is indeed a closet of supplies. Hence the name – supply closet. A closet full of necessities for mostly cleaning. And janitorial work.

And they’re also stuck here within this repository of cleanliness because Ethos accidentally short circuits the mechanism to unlocking the closet door (don’t ask) and drags Phobos in with him because the other navigator happens to be passing by (don’t ask).

He supposes it explains why Phobos – from where he is hunched uncomfortably over Ethos thanks to being crammed into this cramped hole in the wall – is staring down at him with mildly malicious malcontent. “Well,” Ethos says, reaching over to pluck a random roll of toilet paper from the shelf in front of him, “at least you can say we’re safe from our duties for a bit.”

“Yes,” Phobos hisses out and he bumps his head against a can of some sort of spray that then rolls off and thuds next to Ethos, both of them staring at it for a hot minute before they look back at each other, “but I didn’t want to spend it stuck in here! And if I wanted a break I would’ve bloody well asked for one, wouldn’t I?”

“No,” Ethos disagrees immediately, “you wouldn’t, because you’re a workaholic that doesn’t know any better and you are way worse than Abel.”

“Am not! I am not worse than that prick!”

“You’re worse than him in so many ways it’s actually kinda funny, and maybe scary, and so worrying, ‘cause, Porthos keeps looking at you like you’re ‘bout to pass out, and –”

“Why are you looking at Porthos looking at me?”

“Well, he’s cute –”

“ _CUTE?_ You’re staring at him because he’s CUTE?” Phobos interjects, sounding understandably put-off.

A lot of things are surprisingly understandable today. Ethos feels like he needs to worry, or buy a lottery ticket online after bypassing the internet restrictions (for the billionth time, the defenses here sucks) to see if he wins anything. Phobos being reasonable is a dime-a-dozen, or maybe it’s more common than people realise and they don’t catch up on it because he’s woefully a bitch of a fucker?

“Wouldn’t you stare at someone ‘cause they’re cute? Is that why you keep staring at –”

“I do NOT find Abel CUTE!”

“Actually, I was gonna say Athos but okay.”

Phobos lets out what can almost be high-pitched enough to be a dog whistle, which Ethos actually claps for with a hand full of toilet paper. Fresh, clean toilet paper. Wait, if they have so much toilet paper why are the stalls always lacking them? Is there even a janitor on this ship?

“Have you seen the janitor before?”

“We have a janitor?”

“Phobos, that’s scary.”

“… I do not want to agree with you, but I do. What IS keeping this place clean anyway?”

“Not a robot, that’s for sure. Last I checked, AI was banned after the big-name one tried to kill everyone by creating a planet-wide chlorine gas two years ago.”

“We’re still not okay with basic AI?”

“Nope!”

“Wait, the ethics of banning AIs and what-not doesn’t matter. What does matter is how the hell has this place been so clean when people have been fucking left, right, and centre?”

Ethos chirps, “the fact that most the rooms here don’t smell like sex is honestly a miracle.”

There is a bit of silence as Phobos stops to ponder what he is saying, before he sighs. “I again, hate to agree, but you aren’t wrong. People on this ship are too damn horny. What’s horny about being stranded in space and stuck in a conspiracy theory?”

“Some people get off on conspiracy theories.”

“I don’t know what that means, Ethos, and I don’t want to know.” Phobos says blankly, his face twisting in a rather awful grimace that mars his beautiful visage and makes him look ghastly.

Unthinkingly, he says, “you look gassy.”

“What?”

“You look gassy.”

“… I really hope someone realises we’re missing and gets us out of here, because my back’s starting to cramp.”

“I can’t feel my ass anymore.”

“Really don’t care about your arse, Ethos.”

It takes three hours before someone finds them and breaks them out, with Ethos coming out the victor as he manages to convince Phobos to ask Porthos if he is free later. Somehow, near the end of those three hours, he feels like him and Phobos are pretty good friends now!

What accidental isolation helps to do for the relationships of people who would otherwise fucking hate each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Aggressively plugs my [twitter](https://twitter.com/voidromeda) and [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/flynn)
> 
> Normally I'd sit down and write an author's note on my pillowfort, but honestly there's none other than "I wanted to write this for some reason, so I did."


End file.
